wolfpack
by wild wolf free17
Summary: Teen Wolf drabbles, Stiles-centric
1. the light that lit

Title: the light that lit and shadowed the faces of history

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Billy Collins

Warnings: future!fic; mentions of character death & violence

Pairings: implied Allison/Scott

Rating: PG

Wordcount:645

Point of view: third

Prompt: any, any, your past is trash, throw it out

Note: So, I haven't actually seen season 2 yet but I've read A LOT of fic.

* * *

He leaves Beacon Hills the day they bury his father and he never goes back.

.

Scott tries calling him. So do Allison, Isaac, Lydia, and Danny; even Jackson, a few times. They all leave voicemails.

Derek doesn't.

.

Honestly, a part of him had always known it would come to this.

.

He settles in Pittsburgh because it's where the engine falls out of his jeep. He applies to NSU and from there goes to Pitt, where he does a variety of things before settling on history.

Those who don't understand the past are doomed to repeat it.

.

One of his professors is a werewolf. Three of his peers are witches. Five of the people in his undergrad dorm were shifters of some kind.

All of them avoided him and would not have been able to articulate why, but he knew.

Blood leaves a stain and it never washes out.

.

In his dreams, wolves howl. _oh, little red,_ they call, _won't you come out tonight? it's such a brilliant moon_.

Sparks cause fires. Fires burn.

Blood stains.

.

Pack is family. Family dies.

He studies and he learns and he ignores the moon.

.

He graduates in the spring and moves on.

A dozen people breathe easier and will never be able to explain why.

.

He sticks to the east coast for awhile, from Florida to Maine and back. He lives on the edge of society like a scavenger, and he ignores the moon and he ignores the spark, and while a few humans try messing with him, nothing else does.

Blood stains. So does the stench of fire.

.

The wind whispers, sometimes, about the Hale pack. It's growing. Stronger and steadier. Like it was before the fire. The wind whispers about the Argents, too, the greatest hunters and one of the oldest names in the world. The matriarch, they say, she's mated to a wolf. The matriarch, they say, is more dangerous than any hunter in two hundred years.

But the Hale pack, they say, is blessed. Nothing goes to Beacon Hills looking for trouble. Not anymore. Not since the blood, and not since the fire.

.

Once he's walked every inch of the Atlantic coast, he turns towards the Gulf. He stands in hurricanes but it doesn't wash away the blood.

.

Magic is in the blood, and so is lightning.

.

He doesn't set foot in California. The pack closest to the state line sniffs him out but doesn't approach. He skirts the line the whole way to Oregon and then trails the Pacific up through Washington and follows the Canadian border all the way back to Maine.

Then he starts over, this time crisscrossing the heart of the country.

.

This isn't the life he thought he'd have, all those years ago, when he dragged Scott into the woods.

This isn't the life he thought he'd have, all those years ago, when his father tried to help him and ended up dead in his place.

This isn't the life he wanted, but it is what he has.

.

The Hale pack, they say, can't be wounded.

The Argents, they say, have allied with the wolves.

_little red_, wolves howled once, _come dance in moonlight with us_.

Sheriff Stilinski died a hero saving his son's life. The son vanished; no one knows what happened to the boy, but it's such a shame, isn't it, that a hero died instead.

.

Blood stains until nothing else can show. Sparks burn until ashes remain.

He can't go home. He won't die.

Nothing touches him and he survives.

.

He leaves Beacon Hills the day they bury his father and he never goes back. Once he gets tired of the States, he goes north and then south, all the way to Cape Horn.

Then he goes east to Africa because he's got nothing but time.


	2. red moon

Title: red moon

Disclaimer: not my characters

Warnings: mentions of violence

Pairings: none

Rating: PG  
Wordcount: 70

Point of view: third

Prompt: any, any, "How far are you willing to go?"

* * *

There's blood on the moon and he can't catch his breath, watching and waiting, hands clenched into fists.

There's blood on the moon and he's not sorry.

There's blood on the moon and his pack is alive.

There's blood on the moon and smoke on the wind and this isn't the first time he's killed for those who are his.

There's blood on the moon and it won't be the last.


	3. you mattered

Title: you mattered

Disclaimer: Stiles and his pack aren't mine. title is a reference to _Animorphs_

Warnings: character death, violence, stream of conscious

Rating: PG

Pairings: none

Wordcount:

Point of view: third

Prompt: any, any, death is never glorious

* * *

He wants to think he's dying for something worthwhile, something that matters, something that will be remembered.

But he's just dying. He knows that.

Blood in his mouth, down his chin. Blood on his hands, coating his fingers, gushing out of his gut. So much blood. And still more.

He's dying alone so they can get away, and that's important, isn't it? Dying so others live... that means something.

Doesn't it?

Dying at 17. Dying alone.

Howling in the distance. Mournful.

Yeah, they know. Maybe they'll remember.

Laughter getting closer, those fuckers who wanted his pack. No, not getting them, his family, his friends. Not this time. (Probably someday, because the pack is stupid, and maybe they'll want revenge? Is he worthy of vengeance?

No, _please_ no, don't get killed avenging because then it _won't matter_.)

Pain. Blinding, white-hot, raw. And cold. Cold all the way through.

How is he still bleeding?

Howling - getting closer. Laughter, closer still.

No. He's dying for this, and it matters, so he gathers up everything he has left, throws back his head, and screams, _Go!_

The howling cuts off. The laughter is punctuated with a kick to his shoulder that burns all the way down his body.

He lets his head fall back to the dirt and smiles, blood on his teeth. He can die happy, now, because he's dying for them.

_Dad,_ he thinks, _I'm sorry_.

_Mom,_ he thinks, _I'll be there soon_.

One of the fuckers kicks him again and he barely feels it. The blood's run out, and he's not even cold anymore.

Howling, further away. He closes his eyes and listens until everything is silence.


	4. pyre

Title: pyre

Disclaimer: not my characters

Warnings: character death, violence

Pairings: none

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 350

Point of view: third

Prompt: Teen Wolf, Derek, "Oh.. no-n-n-n-n-no. Oh god... Oh god...No, not again!"

Note: I haven't seen season 2, but I've read a lot of fic.

* * *

Fire is the one thing that never leaves him, and this time, kneeling in the ashes, he swears that he'll track down every hunter and punish them all.

.

Beacon Hills is cursed, so Derek heads out in the night, two moonrises after the fire. It wasn't an Argent this time, but that doesn't matter. Hunting is in the Argent blood, so Chris is left with a gaping throat in the same basement where three of Derek's pack were beaten and tortured.

(Allison died in the fire, trying to reach Scott. She was part of the pack, even though Erica kept her distance and Boyd never took his eyes off her.)

Derek doesn't care if his prints are all over Argent's house. He doesn't care about much of anything anymore.

.

Melissa McCall and Sheriff Stilinski bury empty coffins for their children in the rain.

The very next day, Sheriff Stilinski follows Derek and Melissa McCall starts damage control.

.

Lydia almost got out. Jackson died immediately, before the fire even sparked. Boyd and Erica died fighting, and Scott tried to get to Allison. Isaac took a bullet for Stiles.

The front door was clear, but every path to it blocked by rowan and wolfsbane.

The pack howled for their alpha, and with his last breath, Stiles willed mountain ash across the front step so that Derek would live.

.

Derek knows he won't live long. He'll either be taken out by hunters or werewolves who want to stay hidden.

But until he's dead, he'll kill every hunter he can find.

.

"Derek," Sheriff Stilinski calls quietly, hands visible and eyes lowered. "Derek, tell me what to do."

Sheriff Stilinski is a good man, and there are monsters out there that need killing. Melissa knew a lot, and she told him everything his boy had been hiding for over a year.

His boy, burned to death by monsters.

Derek doesn't try to dissuade him. It wouldn't have worked, if he had.

Most of the hunters get gutted or shot. A fair few, though, are lit aflame. Every time, Derek howls, and it almost sounds like his packs are howling again.


	5. You can make anything of yourself

Title: You can make anything of yourself, you know

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Kevin Young

Warnings: violence; language; future!fic (ish)

Pairings: none

Rating: PG13

Wordcount: 865

Point of view: third

Prompt: Teen Wolf/any vampire fandom, Stiles +/ any, His first time meeting a vampire doesn't end how he pictured it.

* * *

His hands are still sparking and he can't catch his breath, and he stares at where - at where -

Motherfucking _vampires._ What the fuck?

.

A nest of vampires tries to move into Beacon Hills. Derek catches the first scent and warns the pack to be watchful. Vampires don't usually go after werewolves, but humans are fair game, even humans that smell like wolf.

So Stiles is totally on guard when the vampire jumps him on the way home from Jungle, and the vampire is faster than Derek but not quite as strong, and when it lunges for his neck, fangs bared, he helplessly raises his hands and _wishes_ -

And lightning strikes the vampire, lightning from _his hands_ -

"What the fuck?" he gasps, sparks on his fingers and vampire ash in his mouth.

.

The vampires, of course, know that the only thing in Beacon Hills capable of taking down one of their nest is a werewolf. Derek, of course, knows that none of the pack killed a vampire.

Stiles doesn't say a word so that none of the supernatural creatures around him catch him in a lie.

.

Another vampire comes after him, of course. Because _fuck his life_.

But this time, Danny is with him, perfectly perfect Danny, totally human and under a goddamned thrall.

This time, Stiles doesn't wish. He _believes_.

Lightning in his hand, vampire ash in his mouth, and Danny blinking in stupefaction.

Seriously. Fuck his life.

.

This time, there's no hiding it. The stench of almost-zombie is all over Danny and Jackson almost goes to war, and Scott is frothing at the mouth, and Allison spouting off all the facts from the Argent bestiary –

But Derek is looking at Stiles. When he says, "Quiet," everyone shuts up. When he says, "Stiles," Stiles' heart skips a beat. "Stiles," he says again. "What happened to the vampire?"

Stiles licks his lips, keeping his gaze lowered, silently rushing through a thousand different explanations.

"Stiles," Derek rumbles.

And that, _of fucking course_, is when the entire nest of vampires attack.

.

Ten vampires against six werewolves, a hunter, a genius, and a boy who can accidently create lightning.

Yeah.

It's not really much of a fight.

.

And then the vampire 'king' is in the room with his hand wrapped around Derek's throat. He's older, that's obvious – Stiles can smell the power on him, old earth and oceans of blood – and so much stronger.

When Derek whimpers, scrabbling uselessly at the vampire's grip, the pack all turn from their own battles to rush the king holding their alpha. But the king simply squeezes harder and snarls, "Stay back or his throat is forfeit."

So the wolves freeze, of course, and the vampires all slink to stand by their king, Stiles _needs_, Stiles _wants,_ Stiles completely _believes_ -

"Kill him!" the vampire roars, but thunder fills the air and lightning strikes every vampire Stiles can see or sense.

One of them gets in a last lucky hit, though, before she explodes, and Stiles slams into the dirt. Something cracks, and something else creaks, and –

.

Stiles wakes in a hospital room. Of course he does. Thanks to werewolf healing, he's the worst injured from a werewolf-vampire-human rumble.

Dad's the first person he sees, then a doctor and a few nurses (not Scott's mom, unfortunately), and then Scott, and then a quick visit with the pack.

Two broken ribs, a wrenched shoulder, and a concussion. Stiles has to fake another attack from a rival team, and claim he didn't see any of their faces, to get his dad out of the room, ready to go track down the shitheads who beat his son into the ground.

Yeah, that's not a kick to his pride or anything. And he really will have to tell his dad the truth soon. The lie tastes worst every time.

.

It's the middle of the night when Stiles wakes up and there's a surly werewolf alpha in his room.

"You're getting predictable," Stiles mumbles.

"And you're a lightning rod," Derek snarks back.

Stiles snorts, trying to sit up. One of his ribs creaks and he winces; Derek gently catches him, supporting him until he's situated.

"So, yeah," Stiles says when he gets his breath back. "I have this thing with lightning now."

Derek just raises an eyebrow at him. Stiles tries to shrug with his own eyebrows so that he doesn't pull any other part of his body and when Derek huffs a little laugh he figures he conveyed the sentiment.

"And, yeah," Stiles continues, "I killed that first vampire who went missing, and the second, and, possibly, the rest of the nest?"

"Yup," Derek says. "It was impressive."

Stiles holds a hand up to look at his palm, which is completely unscorched. But he held lightning. He threw lightning. Even now, through some pretty good medications and exhaustion, he can feel it roiling in his blood, waiting.

Fuck his life, for real.

.

His ribs are still tender, but the debilitating headaches are gone and he's got full range of motion back in his shoulder.

"So," Derek says, the pack ranged around them. "Show us what you can do."

Stiles closes his eyes and _believes_.


	6. This is the way

Title: This is the way

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Eliot

Warnings: future!fic, mentions of character death

Pairings: Derek/Stiles

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 515

Point of view: third

Prompt: Teen Wolf, Derek/Stiles,

_He's pulling his weapon to his side  
Loading it full of his goodbyes  
Holding an enemy across the line_

* * *

Wolves don't mate for life, no matter what Scott says. Stiles has done the research; wolves are serial monogamists.

No matter how the pack pokes fun at 'Mom and Dad,' Stiles has always known the way this would end. He loves Beacon Hills, he does – but he can't stay. Not for Derek. Not even for Dad.

.

This isn't for the good of the pack. This isn't because of the blood soaked into every inch of Beacon Hills, or the stench of smoke always on the breeze. This isn't because of the looks he still gets when he buys groceries, the mutters he shouldn't be able to hear but can.

This is because Stiles has spent twenty years putting everyone before himself and he's so damned tired. If he doesn't get out now, Beacon Hills will kill him.

Part of him wants the rest. He needs it.

But most of him remembers how hard his mother fought to live, how hard his father tried to keep breathing, and he knows that he can't disappoint them by giving up.

.

Stiles will miss them all, Derek and his puppies and even Deaton. He'll miss the house he grew up in and the meadow where he scattered both his parents' ashes. He'll miss the home Derek has turned the one-time Hale wreck into.

The pack are staying close; the furthest away is Lydia at Stanford.

Nowhere is too far and Stiles hasn't set any plan in stone. He's got more than enough money and a spark stirring his blood, and his parents had never gone further than Arizona, though his mom was fascinated with Australia.

So that's the plan, then.

.

He says goodbye beneath a full moon. Derek doesn't ask him to stay. Stiles wouldn't have if he did. Scott hugs him too hard, Allison kisses his cheek, Erica punches him in the shoulder, Boyd claps him on the back, Lydia pats him on the cheek, and Isaac and Jackson shake his hand.

As Stiles passes over the territory line, a single howl follows him down the highway.

.

He doesn't turn around. He may come back one day and he has no idea what will be waiting – but he can't stay a moment longer. Too much blood is soaked into the ground, and too much of it is his. It's leave or die.

Part of him wants to stay, will always want to stay. But the windows are down, letting in a night wind that doesn't stink of smoke and old blood, and he knows that this is for the best.

Maybe he'll be back. Maybe he won't. He doesn't know. But he does know that he's already breathing easier, and that there's already tension fading from his muscles, and whether or not he goes back – he throws back his head and lets a howl echo over the horizon.

Whether he's with them or not, they're his pack. He always knew he was leaving, but he'll always love Derek.

He howls again, breathing smoke-free air, and there's a world waiting for him where his blood hasn't soaked into the ground.


	7. I could not turn the moon off

Title: I could not turn the moon off  
Fandom: Teen Wolf (TV)

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Anne Sexton

Warnings: future!fic; implied violence; headcanon; epic backstory I don't get into (but it is EPIC); character death due to degenerative illness/cancer (I'm honestly not sure which); grief/mourning; mild parental neglect due to grief; handwaving about California colleges and family names

Pairings: implied pre-Derek/Stiles; Sheriff/Mama Stilinski

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 3110

Point of view: third

Prompt: any, any, the things you would do to take back what's yours

Note: Peter Hale was never resurrected. Jackson&Erica are in the pack.

* * *

"Son," Alex said, watching Stiles arm himself with tubes of ash, silver blades, two handguns, and a staff, "be careful."

Stiles smiled. "I'm always careful, Dad," he answered, and stepped out into the night.

.

The first Alex knew of Derek Hale was when Ellandra invited Talia Hale and her husband Jonathan over for dinner. Derek Hale was five or six, and for all that he kept moving around the dining room and bouncing off the walls, he also kept circling back to Alex's son, Allandros (called Allie by his mother - not yet Stiles, not for eight more years).

The last Alex knew of Derek, Laura had snatched her barely-fifteen-year-old brother from CPS and run.

.

The second Stiles was out of sight, Alex called Melissa McCall and demanded, "Tell me everything you know about werewolves."

"Alex," she said, sounding tired and broken, "my son is missing. I don't have time – "

"Melissa," Alex interrupted, "my son is out there right now, armed for bear. Do you know where –"

"Oh," Melissa breathed. "That's what he meant."

"What's what who meant?" Alex asked, taking his entire bullet supply to the front hall.

"Isaac, when he got here," Melissa said. "He, they – Scott and Derek, they've been taken, Boyd's unconscious, Erica isn't healing right, Jackson can't control the shift… everything's fucked up, and no one knows why. But Isaac…" She hesitated and Alex put his back-up piece on the table.

"Please," he said.

Melissa took a deep breath. "Isaac said that the witch had shouted about 'the boy' before vanishing with Scott and Derek. He'd been shouting about 'the boy' during the whole fight, 'the ash boy' and 'the wolf boy' and 'the boy without a name.'"

"Oh, fuck," Alex whispered, staring down at his supplies.

Stiles ran with werewolves, and his middle name had almost been Rowan until they decided to name him Alexei for Alex's mother, Alexa, and he hadn't used his birth name in nearly a decade.

"Yeah," Melissa agreed.

.

Derek Hale slunk back into town and all sorts of trouble followed him.

Alex didn't really believe the boy sitting ramrod-straight across the table had killed the girl in the woods. He didn't believe the boy he and his officers tore apart Beacon Hills looking for had trapped a bunch of kids in the school.

Through it all, Stiles circled around, just like Derek had once, before Stiles could even crawl.

.

The pack, a sorry-looking group of almost-adults, was taking refuge in Melissa's house. At a glance, Alex wasn't sure who was wolf and who wasn't: Isaac, another boy accused of a murder he'd never committed; Erica, curled up next to Isaac, still sluggishly bleeding; Boyd (first or last name?), stretched out next to them on the floor, eyes closed; Jackson huddled with Lydia, his hands shifting back and forth, held tight between hers; Danny, Stiles' chemistry partner, leaning into Jackson's side. All kids who'd been in and out of Alex's house for the better part of a year, and most of whom he'd have never believed Stiles had befriended if the evidence wasn't plain to see.

"Where's Allison?" Alex asked Melissa. "Shouldn't she be here? I thought she was a part of this pack thing."

Melissa nodded, looking just as tired as she sounded. "She is," Melissa sighed, slumping against the wall. "She's out hunting with her dad, trying to find a trail."

"Hunting?" Alex repeated.

Nodding, Melissa looked back at the kids. "You're not gonna like it, Alex," she said.

He said, "Tell me anyway."

.

For a few months, Alex wasn't sure he recognized his son. Stiles had always lied, but he'd never been good at it. Then suddenly, he became a master. Alex figured it might have been Scott's sudden girlfriend, or long-delayed grief for his mother, until the night a serial killer targeted them both at the station.

Alex knew he missed something that night, while he was unconscious. Most of his deputies were killed by a teenager (and that never sat right with him, something else was going on), and Stiles knew so much more than he was telling –

But after that night, Stiles quit lying so much.

(Except. Except for those few hours he was missing and came back bruised and bloody. Someone intentionally hurt his son, methodical and diligent, and Alex needs that name. All he needs is a name.)

.

Staring down at a pack of children trying so hard to be adults, Alex was horrified. And as soon as the crisis had passed and Stiles (and Scott, and Derek) was back, safe and sound, Alex was going to have a long, rational talk with Chris Argent about his sister and his father and hunting in Alex's territory, and Chris Argent was going to sit down, shut up, and _obey_.

(So many things Ellandra had done or said suddenly made a frightening amount of sense.)

"I've been terrified for months," Melissa confessed quietly, "that Scott would do something – something tiny, insignificant, and the hunters would just break the treaty and kill him."

"That's not going to happen," Alex promised. "Not in my town." _Not now that I know_, he didn't add, because he should've known all along.

That wasn't Stiles' fault, though. Maybe not even Ellandra's. If Ellandra hadn't died… Alex knew things would be very different, probably going all the way back to the Hale fire. He wished there was someone left to ask, watching the children turn to each other for comfort because there was no one else.

_No one else until now_, he swore. Because he knew now, and this was his territory, the whole of Beacon Hills County, and no speciesist 'monster' hunters were going to wage war in his territory anymore, and it didn't matter how many of them died to make the message stick.

(That was the father in him talking. The law man agreed because some things were just _right_, despite illegality.)

.

Stiles burst into the house, pale and eyes wide, and he met Alex's gaze for one second before tearing upstairs into his room. Alex followed, shouting, "Stiles, get back here, do you know what time –"

And he had to stop because Stiles had pulled out a chest that shouldn't have fit in his closet, that Alex had never seen before, and from the chest he was grabbing all sorts of things – knives and guns and plants and jars of ash and a goddamned six-foot _wizard staff_.

"I'm sorry, Dad," Stiles said. He wasn't pale anymore. His eyes weren't wide. He was calm and sure and there was something cold in his eyes as he met Alex's gaze again. "There's – fuckin' werewolves. Call Scott's mom," Alex's son, who'd grown into a man when Alex wasn't looking, said. "She'll tell you what's going on. I don't have the time."

Just before going downstairs, Stiles said again, "I'm sorry."

Alex followed him and grabbed his arm at the door. "Be careful, son," he said, because whatever was going on, he couldn't stop Stiles without taking him into custody and there would be no coming back from that.

"I'm always careful, Dad," Stiles said, almost flippantly, with a dangerous smile.

.

It was almost noon before Alex's phone began blaring the song Stiles had programmed into it to mean he was calling (_Hollaback Girl_, this week. Last week it was _Rolling in the Deep_).

"Stiles!" he said. "Stiles, are you okay?"

"Dad," Stiles murmured, "I need you to come get us. We're at…I don't even know. Have Danny track my phone, 'kay?" His voice slurred near the end.

"Stiles!" Alex shouted.

"Quiet, Dad," he muttered. "Gotta sleep now."

The pack, except for Boyd, had all stood and crowded around Alex the moment he said his son's name. So when Alex looked at Danny, panicked and wanting to _kill something_, Danny said, "Already tracking him, sir," poking at some device that looked like a calculator.

Alex squeezed his phone and breathed.

.

"Allandros Alexei Stilinski?" Alex's dad laughed when Alex's son was a day old. "That's a wizard's name, kiddo."

Ellandra smiled down at her baby and then up at them both. "Maybe it will be," she said.

(Dad was dead six years later; Mama had been dead since before Alex graduated college. Ellandra was dead before their son's ninth birthday. Alex never met his wife's family, but they named their boy for her father.)

.

Alex made Boyd and Erica stay at the house with Melissa and Lydia to watch over them, while Isaac, Jackson, Danny, and Alex followed the signal to Stiles. Alex wanted to leave Jackson and Danny behind, too, but if anything happened to the signal they'd need Danny, and even while he didn't have control, Jackson was stronger than anyone except Boyd, who still hadn't woken up.

(Isaac had mumbled something about needing the alpha, when Alex asked. He'd looked so young. They all looked young, terrified and wounded in a way that had nothing to do with blood and concussions.)

Danny called the Argents on the way, gave them the coordinates. It was in the middle of nowhere, way out on the edge of the Preserve, and Alex really was tired of those woods. Chris and Allison met them at the entrance.

"You'll need these, Sheriff," Chris Argent told him, handing over a box of shells. "Kill shots."

"You and I are going to have a talk when this is over," Alex told him.

Chris nodded. "I'm sure we will."

Alex looked long and hard at Danny, but Danny just grabbed one of the guns with an expressionless face, so Alex sighed.

Isaac led the way with Chris right behind him, and Alex shook his head. "Fucking werewolves," he muttered.

He and Stiles were going to have a long talk, too.

.

Ellandra introduced herself as Ellie, the first time they met. She was a junior at Stanford and he had already graduated from CSUSM with a BA in Criminology. He was about to head back to Beacon Hills, see about joining the force, but he hung around Palo Alto for the next couple years. Ellie took a semester off for the wedding before going to grad school in a correspondence course, and then she got pregnant a year in.

She got her master's with their son shrieking and bouncing off the walls, and it was like no time passed at all until she was sick, and dying, and leaving Alex alone with a son who spent a month in silence before deciding he'd make up for that silence by never being quiet again.

In those last few weeks, Alex waited for her to ask for her parents, for the sister she had mentioned once. She had a large family, she said, somewhere in the wilds of Europe. She'd talked about it, the one time she'd ever been drunk, in those laughing, bright, early days. He'd been dazzled by her eyes and hadn't really heard where her family came from. She didn't become an American citizen until after she graduated from Stanford.

He waited for her to ask for her family, but she never did. And then she was gone.

.

Stiles was collapsed in the middle of a clearing. Scott was tied up and unconscious to the side, but Derek Hale was spread out over Stiles' upper body, bleeding all over him.

There were also scorch marks in the ground, but Isaac whispered, "I can't hear anyone else."

The scorch marks looked a lot like body outlines, but Alex didn't even pause. While Chris, Danny, and Jackson kept watch of the perimeter, Alex and Isaac hurried towards Stiles and Derek, and Allison went for Scott.

"They're all breathing," Isaac said quietly. "Strong heartbeats."

Isaac carefully pulled Derek off Stiles and Alex quickly checked his son over, but he wasn't hurt, at least nowhere obvious. Derek started sluggishly healing as soon as Isaac touched him and he woke up with a not-so-impressive snarl.

Alex ignored him, but they'd be having a talk, as well. Alex would be having quite a few talks in the near future.

.

Ellandra called herself Ellie Lupe at Stanford, though that same one time she was ever drunk in Alex's presence, she whispered in his ear, laughing and slurring, that her family's name was Vukašin, and they were one of the oldest bloodlines in the world.

Later, he asked about her parents, and she looked at him like he was crazy when he called her dad 'Mr. Vukašin,' because it was her mother's family.

"Dad's name is Allandros Kosta," she said. "Mom is Elia Vukašin." She shrugged. "I came here for a new life, and they have Cassandra, anyway."

She didn't mention any of them again until they were brainstorming for names for the whirlwind growing inside her.

Alex was a little flabbergasted that her parents had named her and her sister Ellandra and Cassandra when the dad was Allandros, but figured he didn't have much room to talk, what with him being Alexander while his mom was Alexa. (Dad was just Jonathan, though. And Alex's little brother was Clarence, so he knows he got off lucky.)

"Rowan Alexa for a girl," Ellandra finally said, "And Allandros Rowan for a boy. Alright?"

"Sure," Alex agreed, just glad to have it decided.

But while she held their son, barely an hour old, after the quickest and easiest birth Alex could imagine, Ellandra looked down at him and said, "Allandros Alexei Stilinski, welcome to the world."

.

"Isaac," Derek mumbled as he shoved the kid's hands away. "Check Stiles. He did something – it was stupid, and fire, and check him, make sure –"

"Stiles is fine, I think," Alex said, and Derek blinked up at him. Alex cupped the back of Stiles' head, ignoring the way Derek's eyes drank his son in, the way Derek tried to scoot closer, but Isaac held him still.

Derek let out a half-hearted growl but couldn't pull away from Isaac's grip.

Scott woke up with a yell; Stiles didn't react at all.

"We need to get to the hospital," Alex said. "Now."

.

Until Ellandra died, their son was called Allie. It didn't matter how badly the kids at school mocked him (and some of them did, fiercely, for having 'a girly name') he wanted to be called Allie. Only Ellandra could pronounce the full thing correctly, but Alex tried.

But when Ellandra died and no one pronounced his name right, little Allie became Stiles.

Sometimes, when Stiles was particularly difficult, Alex missed Allie, that bright, boisterous little boy who mostly died with his mother. Stiles could be so dark, so _angry_i, though he usually masked it with a big, wide smile. Then high-school, and all the lying, all the acting out – the pack, Alex realized when Stiles just couldn't hide it anymore. The pack and hunters and so many near-deaths.

Allie died with Ellandra, but Stiles is still the most important thing in the world.

.

Isaac, Jackson, and the Argents dragged Derek and Scott to the McCall house while Alex got his kid to the hospital. Within an hour, the pack showed up, Boyd on his feet and awake, Erica totally healed, and Jackson in full control. Scott was also fine, apparently, and Allison stayed glued to his side

"They needed the alpha," Melissa said as the pack takes over the waiting room, none of them moving out of Derek's reach. "He stepped in the room and they just – got better."

Alex was relieved, really he was, but Stiles was somewhere in the hospital and Alex couldn't be with him, and he had no idea what was wrong with his son –

"His heartbeat is steady," Derek said quietly, sitting next to Alex. "He's in a room and the doctor is about to request his family be brought back."

Closing his eyes, Alex breathed out a giant sigh of relief.

.

After Ellandra died, Alex tried tracking down her family. No matter how he spelled any of the names she'd mumbled, he couldn't find them. It was like she'd stepped into California fully formed, with no past at all. Just a too-short future, and a son with her eyes and that undefeatable spark.

Alex missed her every day, every hour, every moment. He knew he should have discussed her more with Stiles, but instead he just shut down. When Stiles started talking again, Alex could never figure out how to start up a conversation about anything important. And the more time passed…

He really wished he could believe that Stiles would come to him with any trouble. But as the year and a half between Scott getting bit and Alex learning the truth showed – well, he wasn't surprised. He lost the chance when Stiles was eight and the house remained silent.

.

"Allandros Alexei Stilinski," Alex said, leaning down to wrap his arms around his son. "If you ever keep something that huge from me again…"

"I'm sorry, Dad," Stiles said into his neck. "I've wanted… it's been so hard, and I'm so tired." He slumped against Alex, breathing in deeply. "I'm a – a mage, I think. It's what Deaton called me once, anyway."

Alex brought up a hand to cradle the back of Stiles' head, still holding him tightly. His boy almost died tonight. The doctor had no explanation, but Stiles' whole body had been worn out, most of his blood just evaporated from his veins.

Medically, there was no explanation. But magically? Magically, Stiles had sacrificed himself to save a pack of werewolves, and it cost enough blood to light a dozen fires. Stiles killed three hunters, four witches, and five shifters (multiple kinds) tonight.

"What's the difference between a witch and a mage?" Alex asked, finally pulling back and helping Stiles settle back down into the bed.

Stiles sort of shrugged with his eyebrows and said, "C'mon in, puppies. I know you're itching to."

Alex shook his head in amusement as the pack all slunk into the room, Melissa behind them. Each of the kids, human and werewolf, quickly touched Stiles somewhere before stepping back. Stiles seemed to relax more with each touch until finally only Derek was left.

"Thank you," he said quietly, leaning down to rest his forehead on Stiles'.

"I'm the boy who runs with wolves," Stiles replied quietly. "There was never anything else I could do." He paused before adding, "Alpha."

.

(In a box at the back of the attic there is a picture that Alex has never seen. In it, two identical young women are laughing in each other's arms, and there are wolves spread out around them. Written on the back in Serbian is _Heir Cass, Mage El, & Vukašin pack, 1985_.)


	8. off the beaten path

Title: off the beaten path

Disclaimer: not my characters

Warnings: character death; AU

Pairings: none

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 550

Point of view: third

Prompt: Any, any, _Run boy run! This world is not made for you  
Run boy run! They're trying to catch you  
Run boy run! Running is a victory  
Run boy run! Beauty lays behind the hills_ (Woodkid, "_Run, Boy, Run")_

* * *

Dad dies on the last day of October, in a stupidly simple domestic gone wrong.

Stiles is twelve.

.

He runs. His dad's brother is on the way to get him, and Scott is with his father down in Arizona, and Mrs. McCall is awesome, really she is, but Mom's only been dead for four years and that's not long enough to heal, nowhere near enough, and now Dad is _gone_.

Dad's gone, and Stiles is no one's problem but his own.

So he runs.

.

He stopped being Allandros when he was eight. He stops being Stiles when he's twelve.

.

Every time someone picks him up _just to the next town, I promise_ he changes his name. Every bus ticket is someone new.

He slips through the cracks and crosses the continent, and it takes the better part of a year and every ounce of his creativity and determination, but he kneels down on the Atlantic shore somewhere in Georgia and breathes in the ocean.

He breathes and breathes and breathes.

.

That same night, he meets his first werewolf.

.

The next night, he meets his first hunter.

.

_The werewolf was young, maybe twenty. He was running scared, banked rage caught in his throat, and if he'd been thinking clearly he would've run the other way._

_But he ran for the water, and ended up in a no-name town in Georgia, and found a kid sitting on the beach at night, bathed in moonlight._

_He actually tripped over the kid, catching himself before sprawling on the sand, and the kid yelped, scrambling into a crouch and glaring up at him._

_The moonlight was bright enough for the kid to see everything._

_When the werewolf ran, the kid followed._

.

_"I know you're here, puppy," the woman called, laughing. "C'mon, let me make it an even dozen. I already got your burnt-up uncle and bitch sister – you're all alone, kiddo. Aren't you tired of running and hiding like a pussy?"_

_The werewolf's eyes were closed, his hands pressed so tight against his ears that his fingers were turning white. The kid was tucked up beside him, eyes wide open and angry, listening to a stranger say horrible, terrible things._

_The werewolf still hadn't realized why the kid was familiar, but the kid had already figured it out._

.

Sparks are dangerous things, when left unattended.

.

Kate Argent is found on the beach in Georgia, a burnt-out husk holding a gun that solves four cold cases. Laura and Derek Hale are still missing, last seen in Tennessee. An Amber Alert is still in effect for Allandros 'Stiles' Stilinski, last seen in Oklahoma till he caught sight of the state trooper and started running again.

.

"You should go home!" Derek shouts, eyes red as blood.

"I don't have a home!" the kid shouts back. He's still musing about what name to pick now that he's decided to stick around; at the moment, he's leaning towards Rafe.

"You can't – " Derek starts, but the kid holds up a hand.

"No," he says, letting all levity drop. "You need a keeper and I need company. Neither of us has anyone, Derek."

"Fine," Derek growls. "But the first time you slow me down, I'm turning you over to the cops."

Rafe doesn't even have to hear his heartbeat to know he's lying.


	9. crying wolf

Title: crying wolf

Disclaimer: not my characters

Warnings: mentions of violence/torture/cold-blooded and calculated murder

Pairings: a smidge of implied Stiles/Peter Hale

Rating: PG13

Wordcount: 710

Pint of view: third

Prompt: any, any, "Your enemies are precious to you. They teach you what your friends cannot."

Note: the alpha pack is not a thing. My headcanon, until canon states otherwise, is that Stiles' birthname is Allandros.

* * *

Peter Hale taught Stiles a lot. Gerard Argent taught him even more.

.

Even with werewolves running around, with trigger-happy hunters, the stench of blood and ash – it was still a game. Like Stiles' imagination had sprung out of his head and said, _Here's an adventure, just for you, buddy-boy_.

Yeah. It's all fun and games until you betray your best friend to the monster that just killed the girl of your dreams.

It's all fun and games until you're bloody and bruised on the ground, until you're a message that no one receives.

It's all fun and games until it's not, and that's when you get _mean_.

.

Dad is a good man. Mom had been an angel.

Allie was a good little boy, but he died with his mother.

Stiles was impetuous and excitable, but he mostly had good intentions – and he was nearly destroyed by Peter Hale, and then killed deader than dead by Gerard Argent.

.

Stiles loves Scott with everything in him. Allison is awesome when she's not crazily homicidal. Lydia is a goddess, Jackson's a douche, and Danny is stealthily hilarious. Derek and his puppies are growing on him.

Dad is most important in the world.

.

In his nightmares, Peter's teeth dig in to the bone and Stiles howls with joy.

In his nightmares, every one of his bones breaks and he watches Gerard torture Erica and Boyd to death.

In his nightmares, Dad learns about what Stiles has been hiding for months and turns away, shakes his head, throws Stiles out of the house and never looks back.

In his nightmares, Scott chooses Allison's crusade against Derek and everyone dies.

In his nightmares, Stiles lights a spark and the world burns.

In his nightmares, no one was in the woods that night.

.

Derek goes out of his way to not hurt humans because of a code nobody else bothers to follow. Eventually, his puppies do the same.

Stiles… well.

(Red eyes and a lacrosse field. Cold concrete and crueler hands.)

There are lines Derek won't cross, that his puppies shy from, that Scott can't even imagine touching. There're lines that Stiles sees, that Stiles acknowledges, that Stiles stomps all over because some things have to be done.

.

Peter Hale is alive. Gerard Argent is a smear on the ground.

Peter watches Stiles with knowing eyes. Scott cuddles with Allison, Boyd and Erica keep their distance from both, Isaac tumbles at Scott's heels, Lydia lords over them all, Jackson douches the place up, and Danny cracks deadpan jokes only Lydia understands at first. Derek is mellowing the longer the pack goes without getting their asses kicked.

Stiles watches Peter right back.

.

Derek will never offer Stiles the bite. Stiles will never ask for it.

.

Dad says, "I miss you, kid."

Stiles doesn't say, "I miss me, too."

.

The moon is dark and the pack hunts in the preserve. The pack humans cook dinner at the renovated Hale house (Stiles) or lounge around in the game room (everybody else), and everyone is happy, and everyone is well.

Three nights ago, Stiles calmly and coldly executed a hunter. In three weeks, that hunter's partner will come calling and Stiles will deal with her, too.

Derek doesn't know and wouldn't like it at all. Dad would be horrified (but, Stiles is almost certain, he'd understand) and Scott would never look at Stiles the same again. Allison would tell her father, and Chris Argent is his father's son, even if he follows the code when he chooses to. The puppies and the other humans – Stiles doesn't know how they'd react, but it wouldn't be good.

In three months, Peter will caress Stiles' face and murmur into his ear,_ I should've bitten you_.

Stiles will grin at him, turning into the touch, and says, _My, my, Mr. Wolf, what big teeth you have_.

.

Stiles blows a handful of mountain ash and wolfsbane into a werewolf's face; Stiles empties a clip into a hunter's chest.

Beacon Hills is his territory and the pack is his family.

Stiles learned to bend in a parking garage, his face pressed into a keyboard; he refused to break in a madman's basement.

He will do what has to be done, and he will never regret it.


	10. a child's forgotten mornings

Title: a child's forgotten mornings when he walked with his mother through the parables of sunlight

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Dylan Thomas

Warnings: mentions of death due to cancer/degenerative illness; implied violence

Pairings: mentions of Sheriff/Mama Stilinski

Rating: PG

Wordcount:

Point of view: third

Prompt: any, any, "Hope is faith holding out its hand in the dark." George Iles

* * *

Every morning, Alex wakes up and thinks, _Maybe today the kid'll talk to me again._

Every night, he goes to bed and thinks, _Ellie, I wish you were here. I don't understand our son at all_.

.

Every week for months, Stiles shows up at crime scenes and acts guilty. Alex doesn't want to believe it, of course he doesn't - but the pattern is there. It's there in neon and sparkles, bright as day.

Then the station massacre. Then Stiles goes missing for a few hours only to come back bruised and bloody.

_Ellie_, Alex thinks, turning Stiles face to examine his cheek, _please, babe. I could really use some help here_.

She doesn't answer. And when Stiles opens his mouth, the explanation that spills out is just as much a lie as everything else he's said since Laura Hale turned up in the woods.

.

Stiles has Ellie's spark, her determination, her laughter, her taste for bullshit, and her smarts. God, Ellie was so fucking smart. She was going places. She was going to do things.

She died by inches, eaten from the inside out by something neither of them could fight.

It's hereditary. Neither Alex nor Stiles have ever talked about it.

.

"Dad," Stiles says one morning at breakfast. He got in late last night, he's walking like it hurts, hydrogen peroxide is stinking up the bathroom, and there's bruise curling around the base of his throat. "Dad," Stiles says. "I need to talk to you."

_Thank you, Ellie_, Alex thinks as he settles in to listen.


	11. the light of the moon and stars

Title: who won by the light of the moon and stars?

Fandom: Teen Wolf/Thor/Norse myth

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Whitman

Warnings: identity issues; AU before The Avengers; future!fic for Teen Wolf

Pairings: none

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 1310

Point of view: third

Note: Váli&Nari don't exist; Jackson&Erica are part of Derek's pack

* * *

There are things in the dark and they're calling his name. He listens because he can't turn off the sound.

He doesn't answer because he knows what's out there. He doesn't answer for a long time.

He doesn't answer until the night he does.

The night he goes walking, eyes closed, and a path opens that wasn't there before, and howling follows him into the dark.

The night he meets a wolf larger than a mountain, and the wolf calls him _Father_, and he trails a fingertip along the sword jammed into the wolf's mouth.

The night he tears open a dozen lies and the tiniest of sparks explodes into a realm-eating fire.

.

_Rest_, he says, gently stroking the wolf's flank. _Your sister is coming to get you. She'll take you home._

_Father,_ the wolf rumbles. _Don't go back alone_.

He laughs, soft and bitter and ancient. _I'll be fine, little one_, he says, pressing a kiss to the tip of the wolf's nose.

.

On his way home, he meets a snake and a stallion, traveling together along the road. _Father_, the stallion says, tossing his head; _Hello_, adds the snake, twining around his feet.

_Boys_, he laughs. _Oh, you look so well_!

He stays with them for a ways, talking about nothing, but when the path forks, he goes left and they go right. _Your sister is taking your brother home,_ he says as they part. _I'll see you all there soon._

_Farewell, Father_, the snake calls, and the stallion adds, _Until we meet again._

_._

He stops at the door, one hand on the knob. Dad is asleep upstairs, dreaming about Mama. One of Derek's puppies is skulking about in the backyard; sounds like Isaac. Scott and Allison are sneaking around in the preserve, Boyd and Erica are curled up together in her bed at Derek's apartment, Jackson and Lydia and Danny are just getting back from a date, and Derek is patrolling at the edge of Beacon Hills.

Everyone is safe. Everyone is alive.

_And I'll keep it that way_, he promises.

His daughter, caressing his youngest son's muzzle, says, _It's not quite time, Father._

_I know,_ he whispers, and goes inside.

.

In the morning, Stiles Stilinski gets up, makes breakfast for him and his dad, and goes to school. At lunch, Boyd tells the rest of the pack about the weird smell Derek found; it started on Stiles' street, went a few yards, and stopped.

Stiles gives the wolves a hard time for failing at being bloodhounds; Allison says she'll ask her dad, if Boyd can describe the scent better. Boyd looks at her warily for a second before saying, "Salty, earthy, and icy, with a hint of ash. And blood. A lot of blood."

Allison nods. Lydia starts to tell her about the movie she and the boys saw last night while Isaac and Scott discuss lacrosse, and Jackson turns to Boyd to demand the key to the rink. Erica asks Danny a computer question and Stiles watches them all, smiling.

.

There is a woman wearing silver and black standing in his bedroom. _Father_, she says. _Are you rested?_

Derek and his puppies are out running. Danny, Lydia, and Allison are waiting for Stiles to grab his laptop before they head to Wolf HQ (or, as everyone else calls it, the Hale house, freshly renovated).

_I'm better than I have been since Baldr_, Loki replies.

Out in the forest, Derek howls because that odd scent is back, salt and earth and ice, ash and blood. Hooves are drumming, a serpent hisses, an icy wind roars, and a howl such as no earthly-born wolf could make fills the air.

And then all of it is suddenly gone. _Keep your brothers safe_, he says to his daughter. _Bar Niflheimr from Odin King, if you must._

_As you command,_ she murmurs, leaving as silently as she came.

Stiles grabs his laptop and hurries downstairs.

.

He didn't one day wake up remembering another life. There is no time he can remember where he didn't know it. He is Stiles Stilinski; he has also always been Loki Silvertongue. His mother was Ellandra Vukašin, the smartest woman in the world; his father is Alexander Stilinski, the best man he's ever known. He also never knew his birth-mother but was raised by the Queen of Asgardr and a succession of servants; he also killed his birth-father and was raised by the All-Father. He is an only child; he also once had a brother, whose shadow eclipsed him, no matter what he did.

He is a teenager on the cusp of manhood, wolf wrangler, A+ student, second-string lacrosse player.

He is a father, a god, hated, feared, fallen.

And now, at last, he is finally whole again, able to wield all the chaos in the nine realms. He is complete.

And were he not also Stiles, were he only Loki…

But his dad, and Scott, the pack and Derek…

He loves them as he once loved Thor, once loved Frigga, once wanted to love Odin and the Warriors 3 and Sif. He loves Beacon Hills and Midgardr as he once loved Asgardr.

Ragnarök is at his fingertips – but he must want to light the spark.

Loki… yes, mostly, if only for his children and nothing else.

But Stiles does not. Not yet.

.

He fell through the void, through eternity and the cosmos, and he landed in Ellandra Stilinski's arms, as a screaming infant, helpless and small. He landed, reborn.

Hel came to him that first night. She soothed him, cradled him, sang the songs he had once sung to her. _Rest, Father_, she said just before leaving. _Be at peace. It took everything you had to survive, and most of my magick, as well. Sleipnir, Jörmungandr, Fenrir, and I can wait. You must care for yourself now._

He couldn't speak, but he listened. He listened, and he waited, and he became Allandros Stilinski, beloved son of Ellie and Alex. He became Stiles, best friend of Scott; he became the second-in-command of the sorriest werewolf pack on Midgardr.

He will remain Stiles until every member of his family has passed on to Hel (he will let them go nowhere else), and then…

And then he will see how he feels about Ragnarök.

.

"Stiles!" Dad calls. "Dinner's ready, kid."

He goes downstairs, complains about school, tries to cajole his dad into talking about an open case, brainstorms a menu for the rest of the week, asks if there are any movies Dad wants to see.

It's a normal night. It's a good night. It's the kind of night he wants to keep, that he wishes he'd had more of with his own children. It's the kind of night he'll fight for, if anyone ever realizes he survived.

"Still goin' out with your friends?" Dad asks as they clear the table.

Stiles nods.

"Don't be out too late," Dad says. "It's a school night."

Stiles nods again. "Don't worry about me, Dad."

Dad laughs, shaking his head. "I'm always gonna worry about you, Stiles," he says fondly.

.

Stiles is a tiny little spark, a catalyst. He's got potential, sure, but he has to survive long enough to use it.

Loki is a wildfire, and he can burn down worlds. He probably will, one day, when he blinks and everyone he loves has died.

But until then, he runs with wolves, and he hides from hunters, and he looks after his dad, and keeps Scott from doing stupid things.

.

(Fenrir lounges by the ornate fireplace in the room Hel fashioned just for him. Sleipnir canters around the field Hel grew just for him, the only one like it in all of Niflheimr. Jörmungandr suns on the ice, half in the water. Hel finalizes the coup that will win her another realm.

Stiles sleeps and Loki dreams of fire.)


	12. that which rips your heart with joy

Title: you do not eat that which rips your heart with joy

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Thomas Lux

Warnings: mentions of gore; future!fic

Pairings: a smidge of implied Derek/Stiles

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 795

Point of view: third

Prompt: any, any, "you're either part of the problem, part of the solution, or part of the landscape" (Eat)

Note: either Derek's pack dealt with Peter, he left, or he was never resurrected; I'm not sure which.

* * *

The pack is down; the hunter's partner is a witch, and she's good. Better than Deaton.

Scott's choking on nothing, gasping for air, and he's the only wolf close enough for Stiles to touch, and it might not be enough - Scott has to _believe_, just as hard as Stiles does, and Scott has never trusted Derek the way Stiles is beginning to.

Stiles wriggles over to Scott, grabs his hand, whispers, "Believe I can do it, Scott, believe in the pack, please, _please_ believe in me."

Scott doesn't nod, and Stiles can't look at him, can't look away from the witch standing at the treeline, watching her hunter speechify at Derek.

Derek's dying, and Stiles doesn't have enough on his own, not after pulling the rest of the curse from the rest of the pack. He had to choose - Derek or the puppies, and Derek would never forgive him for letting them all die. Stiles would never forgive himself.

Scott can't talk, but he squeezes Stiles' hand and suddenly Stiles doesn't hurt as much. Warmth spreads up his arm and once it hits his heart, he's back in the game.

He meets Lydia's gaze, from where she's tucked against Jackson, and she tilts her head to the witch.

Breaking the spell should stun the witch long enough for Lydia to get her. Deaton had said that Lydia wasn't a battering ram like Stiles; Lydia is precision and intent. She's the stream you never notice until it's worn a chasm into the ground. Stiles is the tidal wave that flattens everything.

Stiles could blast the witch off the face of the planet, but he'd also get everything for five miles around, and he doesn't have enough control left to protect the pack while he does it, so, yeah. Lydia gets the witch.

"Believe," he whispers again, and he feels the pack, Danny's serenity and Isaac's pain, Boyd's anger and Erica's defiance, Allison's hate for hunters that don't follow the code, Jackson's regret for trusting the witch, and Scott sure with his last breath that Stiles _can do this_ - and Lydia strikes at the same moment Stiles attacks the spell about to drain Derek dry.

Stiles is a battering ram and he throws almost everything he has left at the witch's curse, dragging the poison out of Derek and into the ground. When it demands a life, as promised by the witch, Stiles shoves the hunter forward with a thought.

It's a bad way to die. Now that it isn't any of Stiles' pack dying, he doesn't care.

The witch explodes, all her parts being contained neatly by Lydia, and Stiles makes sure with what he has left that the pack is alright.

"Stiles?" Scott says, now that he has his breath back, now that his werewolf healing is taking care of everything. "Stiles!"

They'll all be fine, even Derek, who'd come the closest, again.

"Stiles!" someone shouts, sounding further away than Scott should be. "Scott, what's wrong with him?"

Lydia says something, but Stiles can't hear what, and when did it get so col –

.

Stiles wakes up in the hospital. He is really fucking tired of the hospital.

He has until the doctor announces he'll heal just fine if he avoids going without food or drink for thirty-six hours again, and he's confused for a second, because he didn't do that, but then he figures out that must be the result of letting the magic pull everything, and then Dad waits for the doctor to leave to stare down at him and say, "Werewolves, Stiles, really?"

"Oh, thank Christ," Stiles says. "I was running out of reasonable explanations."

"None of them have been reasonable, kid," Dad replies. "Now, there's a lot of kids out there waiting for you. Feel up to it?"

They're all there, bright and strong, and Stiles basks in them. "Yeah," he says, nodding, reaching out to cradle their lights, warm inside and out.

Before walking over to the door, Dad squeezes Stiles' shoulder and leans down to kiss his forehead. "I love you, Allandros, and I'm proud of you," he murmurs. "Your mother would be, too."

Stiles never knows what to say when Dad talks about Mama, but this _feels_ right, so Stiles says, "She'd be proud of you, too," and Dad's eyes are a little wet, but so are Stiles', and Dad goes to let the puppies barrel into the room.


	13. half in love with easeful death

Title: I have been half in love with easeful death

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Keats

Warnings: AU during season 1; future!fic; blood&death

Pairings: pre-Peter/Stiles

Rating: PG13

Wordcount: 575

Point of view: third

Prompt: Author's Choice, Author' Choice, "When I was your age..."

* * *

"When I was your age," Peter says, "Talia had just become alpha because our mother was tired."

Stiles doesn't say anything, but it's a struggle. Peter is staring at Stiles' hands on the keyboard, and Stiles keeps typing.

"Mom died in the fire, along with everyone else I have ever loved, Stiles," Peter says. He leans over, putting his mouth right by Stiles' ear, and murmurs, "Do you still think I'm wrong for wanting revenge?"

Stiles stops typing just for moment, just to take a deep, careful breath. "I never thought you were wrong," he answers. "I found Scott's phone."

.

In a few months, when Peter's back from the dead and there's a new bad guy, Stiles will remember that moment, when Peter offered him strength, speed, and healing. He'll remember saying no, and Peter calling it a lie.

It was.

But all Stiles has is what he is, and people stronger than him have been underestimating him his entire life.

.

"When I was your age," Peter says, "I knew how to respect my elders."

Stiles laughs and the alpha flinches away from the wolfsbane candle he sets on the floor by the alpha's bound feet.

"My pack will find us," the alpha tries to growl. Stiles can't tell which twin it is; probably not the one he got with the rowan bat, he doesn't look angry enough.

"Oh, I'm counting on it," Peter says lightly. "It'll be too late, though." He nods to Stiles so Stiles pushes the candle close enough to touch the alpha's ankle.

Boyd is back, terrified out of his mind. Erica is still missing. And this alpha is going to tell him where – and then Peter gets to become an alpha again. Win-win for everyone.

Well, except for the alpha, but he lost all right to a happy ending when he set foot in Beacon Hills.

.

"Do you want the bite?" Peter asks again, walking away from the fire with Stiles.

"No, thank you," Stiles says.

"Your heartbeat stayed steady," Peter tells him. "When I was your age, I didn't want to be a werewolf, either."

"Really?" Stiles asks. His phone vibrates in his pocket; he pulls it out and it's Dad, probably panicked and definitely angry. Stiles has become such a troublemaker lately, and now he's helping kill people and destroy the evidence.

"I wanted to be an astronaut," Peter says, "and I would never have passed the physical." He shrugs. "Go home to your father, Stiles. I'll bring our packmate home."

Stiles pauses mid-step. "… _our_ packmate?"

"Of course," Peter says with a smile, his red-eyed gaze burning. "We just killed together, Stiles. You're mine."

And that… is _right_. Derek has never been Stiles' alpha, and while he loves Scott, he can't follow that idiot into a prank, much less a war. If anyone had been alpha in their little pack of two, it was Stiles.

But Peter…

There is blood on Stiles' hands, and he's not sorry.

"Get Erica back," Stiles says. "Be careful."

Peter nods. "Of course," he says again. He leans in close, squeezes the back of Stiles' neck, kisses his forehead. "I'll see you soon."

Stiles… Stiles goes home to his father, doesn't call Scott (who wouldn't answer, anyway, even if Stiles' life depended on it) or Derek (who would answer and hang up), takes a shower, and pulls the covers up over his head.

He dreams about controlling fire and walking side-by-side with a wolf.


	14. The wakeful trump of doom

Title: The wakeful trump of doom must thunder through the deep

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Milton

Warnings: AUish future!fic; I haven't seen any of season 3; talk of violence and murder

Pairings: none

Rating: PG  
Wordcount: 210

Point of view: third

Prompt: Author's choice, any, any. I would appreciate something dark, though.

"I'm so tired  
I must get up for air  
But I can't find it  
What's up or what's down out here  
I'm caught in your undertow  
Caught in your undertow"

* * *

"I need your help," Stiles says, wishing he knew anyone else to ask.

"Do you really?" Peter asks, setting down his book. He looks delighted and Stiles wants to stalk out, find another way.

There is no other way.

"They went after my dad, Peter," Stiles says, letting only a little of the cold fire burning deep inside peek through. "They went after my dad and I need them to never do that again."

"Why not go to Derek?" Peter steeples his fingers and looks up at Stiles through his lashes. It'd be funny, if Stiles weren't still so _angry_. But if Peter could ever pull off the innocent act, it was before the fire.

"I need a killer," Stiles says. "They hurt my dad and they need to die."

Derek's no killer, and Stiles doesn't want to turn him into one. But Peter, whoever he was before – he's exactly what Stiles needs now.

"Have a seat, Stiles," Peter says sprawling back across the couch, "and tell me what you need."

There will be going no back after this, but Dad's still in the hospital, and there is nothing Stiles won't do to keep him safe.

He sits beside Peter, meets Peter's gaze without hesitation, and starts talking.


	15. shout down the sky

Title: shout down the sky

Disclaimer: not my characters

Warnings: AUish; I haven't seen any of season 3 yet.

Pairings: none

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 345

Point of view: third

Prompt: Teen Wolf, any, _Beware false prophets, who come to you in sheep's clothing but inwardly are ravenous wolves._

* * *

Stiles talks a big game, and he ducks his head when the wolves get growly, back down when he needs to, and he pulls their asses outta the fire _all the time_ (sorry, Derek. not so sorry, Peter), and he knows what they think.

It's what he wants them to think.

.

_Not much longer, sweetling_, Mama says in his dreams.

_Ten years lasts forever_, he replies, tucking himself into her arms, like he's five again.

_Only one more, Allandros_, she murmurs, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head.

_Dad misses you,_ he tells her, closing his eyes and resting. i_I think he's forgotten, Mama. He doesn't see the wolves at all, hasn't since you left._

_He'll remember_, Mama promises. _I'll step back into the world and we'll be as we should've been. All prices shall be paid._

She kisses his forehead and says, _Tell me about your wolves_.

.

Stiles wakes up and eats a quick breakfast with his dad, hurries to school. He meets up with Scott and Isaac in the parking lot, snarks at Jackson, ducks Erica's swat to the head, and laughs at Boyd's muttering. Danny nods to him and Lydia smiles. Allison watches them all with a pining look and turns away.

None of them have any idea. Maybe Talia Hale did, but she didn't tell Peter, clearly, and he wasn't in his right mind when his eyes were alpha red, so he couldn't sense it. If he _could_ sense it, he clearly had no idea what it was. Or maybe only born alphas can sense it? Or maybe no one can.

Whatever. A year left. On his eighteenth birthday, Mama will come back, all dues paid.

Stiles' wolves will be safe. Dad will remember the spark in Mama's blood, the spark Stiles inherited, the spark Deaton thinks is so tiny.

The spark in Stiles' blood once lit up the world, when his kind ruled the sky. And when Mama comes back…

The bell shrieks and Stiles follows his wolves down the hall.

One year left.

Stiles can't wait to fly.


	16. A cold wind's whispering

Title: A cold wind's whispering

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from The Civil Wars

Warnings: AU during season 2; major character death; violence; an epic backstory I barely go into; I haven't seen any of season 3

Pairings: Peter/Stiles, Mama Stilinski/Sheriff, mentions of Allison/Scott, onesided Peter/Mama Stilinski

Rating: PG13

Wordcount: 1805

Point of view: third

Prompt: Any, any,

_Don't you fret my dear  
It'll all be over soon  
I'll be waiting here  
For you_

(Kingdom Come, The Civil Wars)

* * *

"They don't understand, you know," the boy tells him. "They think you're some sort of monster."

He laughs. "Of course I am. You're the only one who doesn't believe it."

The boy's smiling. "I'm not afraid of you," he says.

The wolf growls and growls, but the boy never stops smiling.

.

"_Where's Stiles?" the Sheriff shouts. "Stiles! Where's my son?" _

_No one answers because no one knew he was missing. _

_The pack tears Beacon Hills apart looking, but they never find him. _

.

It was scary, a little, at first, because the last time he saw Peter Hale, Stiles might've had a part of setting him on fire.

"So, you're alive now," he had said, ignoring the way he could feel his heart pounding – excitement, not terror, and Peter definitely knew, because he was looking at Stiles like Stiles was a particularly interesting thing.

"And unfortunately no longer an alpha," Peter said. "So that offer I made last time is off the table until we find one."

"I'm not helping you kill Derek," Stiles had declared, standing up straight.

Peter just kept looking at him. "Even at the expense of your own life?" he'd asked, smiling in a way that showed all his teeth and wasn't actually a smile.

"Yeah," Stiles had said. "Even at the expense of my own."

"You really are fascinating, Stiles," he said. "Let's go."

.

_They had to deal with Gerard Argent, and convince Allison that Derek didn't kill her mother, and try to save or kill Jackson, whichever took the least time. _

_When everything was finally dealt with, the trail –if there ever had been one – was long cold. _

_Of course, Scott told the Sheriff everything, and he really was his son's father; he wasted no time freaking out, he just got right to work. _

_But they didn't know who had Stiles, or why, and the next threat popped up without giving them the time they needed to search. _

_._

Peter is the only constant. He doesn't stop Stiles from interacting with anyone he wants to talk to, but he's always there, waiting.

Stiles could call his dad or Scott. He could run away.

But he still doesn't know how Peter's back, and Peter lets little bits of information out now and then, and that mountain ash Deaton gave him is only the start.

"Your imagination is your greatest asset, Stiles," Peter told him, smiling an actual smile. "If you can imagine it, you can do it." He shrugged. "Deaton's good, but he's bound by rules that can't even touch you. You'll never get more from him than you already have."

"And I suppose you can teach me?" Stiles had asked, watching ash flow around his hand in a pattern he told it to.

Peter's smile became a toothy smirk. "I resurrected myself while most wolves can't even do the simplest spell. You and I – we're something new, Stiles, something no one's ever seen before."

Stiles glanced up at him. "I guess I can hang out for a while," he said.

So, yeah. He's learning all sorts of things that nobody in Beacon Hills can offer him, and Peter's barely frightening at all anymore, and while he misses his dad, it's not like anyone else will even notice he's gone.

.

_They survive by the skin of their teeth. _

_The Argents are long gone from Beacon Hills, run out by the Sheriff after he learned everything. _

_Scott kills one of the twins and becomes an alpha. Isaac is almost beaten to death until Boyd and Erica tag-team the alpha choking him. Lydia lights another on fire from the inside out, and Jackson is gutted protecting her but they get him to Deaton in time. _

_They survive, but they have to rest and heal before they can keep searching, and there is no trail at all. _

.

"So, you're like, a supernatural detective or assassin or something?" Stiles asks around the straw of his milkshake.

"Or something," Peter says, primly wiping ketchup from the side of his mouth with a napkin.

"That's so cool," Stiles says, noisily sucking up more of the dregs of his shake. He glances up in time to see Peter watching him. Peter meets his eyes for a long moment before looking back down at his burger.

Stiles grins, sitting up from his slouch. He's been wondering something since the parking garage, and Peter just answered his question.

"You need a partner?" Stiles asks, because there's nothing left that Peter can really teach him. Stiles surpassed him three months ago.

"I suppose I could do with someone watching my back," Peter says, looking at Stiles again.

.

_The day Allison calls to say they've found Stiles is one of the worst of Scott's life. _

_Because Stiles is with Peter Hale, and they've been hunting hunters, and when Peter killed Allison's dad, Stiles watched, laughing, and Peter's eyes were red as blood._

_Stiles has been gone for two years. Scott's missed him every single day. _

_Allison's sobbing into the phone and Scott has no idea what to say. _

.

"Do you want the bite, Stiles?" Peter asks.

Sirens are coming closer. Hunters are lined up outside. They'd have already lit the place on fire, except no sparks are catching, not when Stiles won't let them.

Peter's got eight wolfsbane bullets in him and Stiles never bothered to learn how to heal, and they both know he won't save Peter, not this time.

"I don't suppose you'd give me a quick death?" Peter asks when Stiles doesn't respond.

Stiles reaches over to grip the back of Peter's head and kisses him, long and hard. He's grown in the past two years, taller and broader than Peter. He's grown so much.

Peter's looking at him when Stiles breaks his neck, smiling that same smile.

Stiles doesn't tell him to rest in peace, or that he's sorry, or that he knew Peter had always known it'd end this way. He doesn't say a thing. Instead he lights a fire and burns Peter to ashes in a moment, and then blasts the door off its hinges and tosses the ashes into the waiting hunter's faces.

Wolfsbane isn't just fatal to wolves, Stiles knows.

.

_"I don't understand," the Sheriff says, watching Derek and Scott pace around each other, both barely keeping from attacking the other. _

_"He's not the Stiles we knew," Derek says. "I'm sorry."_

_The Sheriff looks back down at the computer screen, bright with pictures from a dozen crime scenes. _

_"Who were they?" he asks. _

_Both Derek and Scott will pretend they don't see the smile or smell the pride when Scott answers, "Hunters."_

.

Lykourgos Piotrek Stilinski stalks back into Beacon Hills five years after he left. The only person he visits is the Sheriff, and the Sheriff gives him a long hug.

"I missed you, kid," the Sheriff says.

"I missed you, too, Dad," Lykourgos says.

"I've been following your work," the Sheriff says over dinner. "You're going by your birth name, now?"

Lykourgos nods. "It didn't make sense before," he shrugs. "Now I find it kinda funny."

The Sheriff chuckles. "Your mother was something else, Stiles. I never could pronounce it."

Lykourgos spends the night and leaves at dawn. There's a hunter three towns over circling a young alpha pair and Lykourgos Ireally/i hates hunters.

.

_A long time ago, Peter Hale and Ylva Vukašin met at Stanford. She was a senior, about to graduate; he was a sophomore and fell totally in love. _

_From the beginning, she knew what he was. It wasn't until he brought her home to introduce his best friend (but not mate, because she never felt the same) to his pack that Mama recognized what Ylva was. _

_It made no difference to Peter, but when he scented that boy in the school with his errant beta, he **knew**._

_Just like he knew there never would've been a fire if Ylva hadn't died six months before, having given too much of herself to the child that shouldn't have survived the near-miscarriage._

_Ylva loved a human and married him. But for Peter, she chose Piotrek as her son's middle name and named her best friend as the boy's wolf-father. And for her father, she named him Lykourgos. _

_If the Argents had known – Kate was too insane to be afraid, and Gerard, but Chris would never have settled his family in Beacon Hills, even to get Derek Hale._

.

"Hey, Catwoman," Lykourgos calls as he drives past the young alphas whose lives he just saved.

"Stiles?!" Erica shouts after him, but Lykourgos turns his music up. He's got places to be, hunters to kill – Stiles was no more than a placeholder, even if it took a wolf who only ever saw his mother instead of him to show him that.

He turned the music up louder and shouted, "Baby, you were born this way!"

.

_Werewolves sometimes hunted humans. Hunters always hunted werewolves. And then there were those who some called witches, others called mages, who hunted hunters. No one knew their names, or where they came from, or why they did what they did. _

_Lykourgos Vukašin was the most powerful of his generation, his daughter of hers, and his grandson of all. _

_When Peter Hale crawled out his grave, he knew that he had a choice. He could stay in Beacon Hills, see what had happened since his death, focus on small game. Or…_

_Or he could grab Ylva's child and wipe out all hunters._

_It was an easy choice, and the kid was still easy prey. He needed a teacher._

_So Peter took him, and Peter trained him, and Peter knew the whole time how it would end – but the boy looked so much like his mother, and Peter left all of his morals and hesitancy in a house on fire._

.

Every Tuesday, Lykourgos calls his father.

Every Tuesday, Derek and Scott listen from the roof.

Every Tuesday, they make plans that never come to fruition, and blame each other for Stiles becoming Lykourgos.

The Sheriff never tells them that Stiles was always Lykourgos – he just needed a spark to light the fire, and Peter Hale gave him that one night in the woods, while two boys too dumb to know better looked for a body.

.

_"They don't understand, you know," the boy tells him. "They think you're some sort of monster."_

_He laughs. "Of course I am. You're the only one who doesn't believe it."_

_The boy's smiling. "I'm not afraid of you," he says. _

_The wolf growls and growls, but the boy never stops smiling. _

Lykourgos turns away from the mirror, letting the howl fade, and bares his teeth at the hunter. "Hey," he says. "Let's get started."

* * *

I got all these names from the internet, so no guarantees on their actualfax accuracy.

Lykourgos – Greek, _wolf-work_

Piotrek – Polish, _Peter_

Ylva – Scandinavian, _she-wolf_

Vukašin – Serbian, _son of wolf_


End file.
